There's nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
--Oliver Wendell Holmes
Remember when we went to the midnight showing of “Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” because we were excited to see it…and we could?
Remember all the seemingly deep conversations we had over hours and hours of cheap beer and munchies? (For my law school friends, one such conversation concerning the after life, ghosts & how life is as random as the gum that shoots down a gum ball machine particularly stands out. Anybody else remember it? Or was I the “sober” one that evening? )
Remember when we knew all the emerging new artists and saw them at small venues before most people had even heard of them? (How many people can say they saw David Gray at a little bar in Ballard with a mere 200 of their closest friends? I can.)
Remember when one of the biggest decisions to make was whether we could make it to that 8:05 class a whole TWO days a week?
Remember when going out on the weekend was standard practice and done with barely a thought beyond which bar had the best special as opposed to an event planned with exacting precision?
Remember having standard orders at favorite restaurants where kids didn’t eat free on Tuesdays?
Remember road-tripping to Memphis because there was nothing else to do that weekend?
Remember when 9:00 (either a.m. or p.m.) was early?
Ahh, youth. Wasted on the young.
But nothing, save trees and truth, stays young forever. So, with that I am walking steadfastly away from the last illusions that I am in early adulthood and I embrace our purchase of: